finale
by thir13enth
Summary: He sees the future so clearly in front of him, even if he isn't there to witness it. Laxus-centric. Chapters 472, 473.


**I tried. I had this moment in my mind and I tried to execute it. But like most things I end up writing that are too good for words, that is the most I can say of it. I don't know if I've done this any justice at all.**

* * *

 _(brace yourself)_

When he sees the dent in the armor beyond the growing beam of etherious energy gathering in the spriggan's palm, he smiles.

He knows what's to come, what's to happen. Everything orchestrates in his head in a way that scares him into thinking Mavis is in his head, but he sees ahead now and he understands completely: Time is a black-and-white chessboard and at the end, a glorious checkmate awaits.

He just has to make the next move, take out the knight before him, and he will taste the salt from the sweat and tears of victory on his tongue—even if he won't be in the game after.

Lightning crackles at his fingers. It's red—and he's not sure if it's his heart and soul pouring out or his flesh and blood coming to pieces, but it's red—red like the sunset, red like the sunrise.

He sees everything in front of him, and it's so damn clear he doesn't want to look back.

But he does, and he does in moments:

 **…**

 _38_ , he says in his head, and the number sings in his head like angels, but the count comes out as a grunt off his quivering lips.

He lands back to the ground from the bar and lets his arms swing down like lead, his shoulders searing with pain. He sputters a mix of spit and effort, and with a heavy inhale, he stands back to his full height and refreshes his burning lungs with clean fresh air.

He closes his eyes for another breath and when his eyes reopen, he notices his green-haired comrade walking behind him—long hair tied back tight, tank top freshly damp of exercise, breath steady from a recent long run.

"You push yourself too hard," Freed remarks, taking his spot at the edge of the mat.

"Nah, it's just that my body can't keep up," he replies with a proud smirk, wiping a trace of sweat off his brow.

Tomorrow, he shoots for 50.

 **…**

Her voice is small but strong like the dragon she grew up to be. It wavers in confidence though, as she looks at the purple-black gases that every so often escape from his mouth in his intermittent spasms.

"Laxus- _san_ …you'll be okay, right?" Wendy asks him. Her chest heaves heavily from all the healing magic that she has used on him while accompanying him back to the guild.

He nods, but a hoarse cough interrupts him. He tries to keep it in, holding his fist against his lips.

She frowns.

"Don't worry about big Laxus," the Fairy Tail medic tells the younger dragonslayer, coming into the room. She quickly approaches his bedside equipped with whatever medical equipment she needs. "He's been here multiple times already for the same reason—stupidity."

Wendy's eyes widen at the harshness of Porlyusica's statement, but Laxus reassures that the older woman means no harm.

"Don't worry about granny Porlyusica," Laxus returns. "She's been patching me up good since I was young with the same thing—stubbornness."

Wendy giggles and then looks back up at Laxus, nodding. "Okay."

"I'll be fine, thanks to your healing," he says, before he pats her on the head. He cracks a smile and then adds, "You're really strong now, Wendy. Maybe even stronger than me."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

He nods. "Yeah," he assures. "Go on. You have other things to worry about."

Wendy smiles. "Okay, Laxus- _san_. Ganbatte!"

And then he watches Wendy leave, with a large optimistic grin on her face and a wave of her hand.

Porlyusica clucks her tongue once the door closes behind them. "Are you sure something else didn't get into you other than Magical Barrier Particles?"

"No." He chuckles. "It's all just coming out now."

But then he pauses and thinks to himself, before he sighs deeply and places his hand over his face.

"I don't know what's come over me," he remarks, with a humored smile.

He sees Porlyusica roll her eyes through the crack of his fingers. "Well, you did just inhaled a life's worth Magical Barrier Particles."

He notices that the corners of her mouth are turned down.

"I guess," he says.

 **…**

"What are you trying to do—earn the guild's forgiveness?"

Laxus looks up. Makarov stands in front of him.

His silence tells the master that he wants the context of the question.

"You've been helping out more and doing a lot more favors without complaining as much," the older man explains. "Almost like you're trying to redeem yourself."

"I'm not redeeming," he corrects, looking off to the side. His little rebellion was crushed but that doesn't mean that he's no longer a teen about to turn young adult. "I've just found the people I care about."

He doesn't look at his grandfather, but he can hear his smile all the same.

"Well it seems you've learned your lesson," Makarov says simply.

He wrinkles his nose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

 **…**

He smiles.

The lightning at his hand grows to encompass his body. It hurts but there is no sweeter pain than the soreness of his overworked muscles, the strain of his magical reserves, or the fight of his body against the particles he's resisted for weeks on end.

The pain has become him, and he is proud that he owns it. He's overcome many things worse than this—probably—and he taps into the strength that he's built up his entire life.

It's just one more rep, he thinks. One more push-up, one more crunch, one more lift. Each one makes him stronger than the last, and this—

This is his last chance, but more importantly, it's one that matters the most.

There are no apologies. He knows it will take a while for his old man—and the rest of the guild, for that matter—to forgive him but he knows the time has come.

 _(go out fighting)_  
So he braces—puts his all out because he has never put less.

 _(go out young)_  
He coughs—the last of his breath in his lungs.

 _(a flash of lightning)_  
He smirks—the turn of his life at his lips.

 _(eclipse the sun)_  
And he goes—forward, because he's already looked back.

* * *

 **Anywho, as always, let me know what you think! I actually really do want to hear what you think of this one!**

 **thir13enth**


End file.
